


Seeking Truth (Finding Home)

by njw



Series: Jaytim Week Prompt Oneshots and Stories [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Capes, Detective Dick Grayson, Fluff and Angst, Humor, JayTim Week, JayTimBINGO2019, M/M, Misunderstandings, NO CAPES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-04 21:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20477498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: The court case was easier to settle than Tim expected so here he is, twelve years old and totally alone in the world. Thank goodness there’s enough money from the sale of what was left of Drake Industries to pay for his needs until he’s old enough to find work and provide for himself.And the false uncle he invented made it all too easy to withdraw himself from school and switch to a home school program, the better to free up time for his detective work.At least I can still do good.*For thetumblr Jaytim month(ish) 2019week five no capes prompt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Salazarastark for the awesome beta! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Tim ducks down behind the scaffolding, heart pounding as Officer Grayson rushes by in pursuit of the suspect. He curls his body around the camera and squeezes himself into a tiny crevice, listening breathlessly as the footsteps and shouting continue to recede into the distance.

_That was way too close._

This isn’t the first time the policeman has come across a person of interest engaging in an actual crime while Tim was secretly trailing after him. It _is _the closest he’s come to being observed, though, and his heart’s still jackhammering with the fear of discovery.

_How could I ever explain everything to him in a way he would understand?_

He chooses his vantage points with care, and usually his predictions on the movements of both officer and suspects prove accurate. The would-be buyers tonight had bolted off down the cross street, as anticipated, before scattering into the darkness to wherever street children in Gotham spend their time. The drug dealer, though, had turned the other way and run directly _toward_ Tim’s hiding place. The daring move took the man closer to the busier part of town and away from the maze of dark alleyways which would have seemed a more logical retreat.

_I should have anticipated he might come this way. The alleys _would_ have been a more strategic retreat once he spotted Officer Grayson, but since when are criminals necessarily smart? Besides, maybe he wanted to lose himself in the crowds by heading to the busier streets. I should have thought of that possibility._

Tim bites his lip and frowns fiercely at having misjudged the situation. He can’t afford to make mistakes like this, not if he wants to avoid being caught.

_I guess I still have a lot to learn. I need to be more careful, or he’ll find me out and everything will be ruined._

The echoing footsteps barely have time to fade before he uncurls his body and moves, hurrying to the other end of the vacant commercial building. He listens carefully before peeking around the corner, still protected from view by the temporary scaffolding surrounding the entire stalled renovation project.

This is just one of many abandoned, damaged, and condemned buildings scattered throughout the city. Building projects in Gotham have an unfortunate tendency to lose funding before completion. For some reason, no one wants to invest anything into a city which seems to thrive on corruption, chaos, and crime. He’s familiar with their locations because they provide useful hiding places, both for him and for the occasional vagrant or opportunistic criminal.

Well, _almost_ nobody wants to invest anything into Gotham…

Officer Grayson is standing across the street, rubbing at the back of his neck while he looks around and frowns.

_The suspect got away,_ Tim thinks with disappointment as he lifts his camera and focuses carefully on the police officer through the gathering gloom. The streetlights snap on at that moment, illuminating the man’s handsome face and determined expression.

The click of the camera shutter goes unnoticed amidst the background din of the city at night. He grins, still staring through the viewfinder.

_…So cool._

Officer Grayson sighs as he looks around once more, then turns and heads back toward his vehicle. Based on precedent, he’s almost certainly planning to return to the precinct now that the small-time drug dealer he was investigating has given him the slip. His disappointment is obvious in the dejected slump of his trim shoulders and the lack of bounce in his steps.

Tim understands exactly how the older man feels.

_It isn’t fair,_ he thinks viciously. _That guy was _definitely_ trying to sell drugs to those kids. Dick just needs the right evidence to be able to do something about it. And so far, that’s been _impossible_ to come by. Everyone sees the cops coming a mile away and won’t tell him anything, even though he’s just trying to help_ _them._

Watching the older man’s bright smile slowly grow dim as a result of the constant, grinding futility of his chosen daily job is heartbreaking to Tim.

After all, he’s observed Dick Grayson from afar whenever he had the chance for a very long time now. He was only four years old when he received his very first hug from the kind twelve year-old at the circus, then watched in powerless horror as the other boy’s entire world came crashing down when the ropes failed and his parents fell to their deaths.

The nightmares had been _terrible _for months_, _worsened by the fact that his own parents left on one of their trips the next day. The echoing, empty house had no assurance or comfort to offer him. Visions of John and Mary Grayson falling were soon joined by horrific images of Dick sharing their fate, and Tim would awaken _sobbing _in his little bed with no one to reassure him_._

It was only when he happened to spot the surviving member of the Grayson family on the news that he realized seeing the other boy, alive and well, had a deeply soothing effect on his panic and bad dreams. He had watched the adoption proceedings play out in the media and clipped articles from the paper about gymnastics competition wins and other public appearances. Following Dick Grayson’s life acted to soothe his nightmares over time. Occasionally, he was even able to see Dick from afar at galas when the Drakes were actually home and brought him along on their outings.

It was almost what he imagines having a friend might be like.

_I’m eleven now, almost as old as he was back then. I can’t even conceive what it must have been like for him. He must have been so scared and felt so alone. Thank goodness Mr. Wayne was there and decided to adopt him. I’m glad he had someone like that to help him._

Once Tim was old enough to pass unnoticed in the crowd, he’d even managed to attend Dick’s sporting events, school performances, and other public appearances with Mr. Wayne. Seeing the older boy safe and surrounded by his loving family helped him process the trauma of what he had seen. In time, he watched far more out of habit and affection for the entire Wayne family than to soothe his long-outgrown nightmares.

Now that Dick Grayson is a police officer, following his life is more exciting than ever.

Over the years, he’s seen the older boy grow up into someone who took his own tragedy and used it to inspire himself to save others from experiencing the same pain. Dick Grayson is doing his best to help, to be a _hero, _and it’s just wrong that Gotham is fighting him every step of the way.

Tim bites his lip worriedly. He doesn’t want to see Dick Grayson lose his hope now.

A sound from the alley which runs along the far side of the building catches his attention. Carefully, Tim makes his way over to the alley opening, taking refuge behind another portion of the scaffolding to avoid being seen.

“Copper’s gone,” a deep, rough voice reports. Tim peeks through the gaps in the scaffolding, eyes widening at the sight of the same tall, bald, would-be drug dealer who gave Officer Grayson the slip earlier. The dealer is scowling as he huddles and talks to another man.

The second man, a short, bulky blond, shakes his head as he accepts what looks like a briefcase from the dealer. “Why the hell can’t that asshole keep his damn nose outta our business? At least most of ‘em just take a cut of the profits or merch and call it good even if they catch us, but _that _guy…” He makes a derisive noise and then spits eloquently on the ground.

_Ew. _Tim wrinkles his nose in disgust. _Why are people so gross? Just for that, I’m calling you Spits in my head from now on._

The bald dealer shakes his head, scoffing, as Spits opens the briefcase and quickly flips through the stacks of cash within. He casts an expert eye over the contents before nodding. “Kiddies been payin’ up, eh Hobbs?” he says approvingly, to Tim’s utter disgust. Seemingly magically, he produces a second briefcase and hands it over.

Hobbs nods, smirking greedily. “Yeah, business has been good. And hell, the rest of the cops around here know enough to look the other way, but not _that_ rookie. He hasn’t cut any deals with anyone yet, doesn’t seem interested in anything but fuckin’ _justice._”

He snorts a rough laugh which doesn’t sound very amused. Scowling, he cracks open the briefcase and inspects the revealed rows of tiny bags filled with white powder before removing one to sample the merchandise. Seemingly satisfied, he slams the case shut with an ugly grin. “Won’t last long,” he predicts darkly.

Spits grunts at the other man’s prediction, then cracks a rusty laugh. “Nope. Not in fuckin’ _Gotham.”_ He hefts the briefcase with a nod. “Same time next month.”

Tim retreats farther back into his hiding place as the pair separates and disappears into the Gotham night, walking briskly in different directions. He stares at the camera in his hands, thinking about the dozen pictures he just took documenting an extremely obvious drug deal involving the very man Officer Grayson was trying to investigate.

Nothing quite like this has ever happened before on the nights he slipped out to trail his first hero and take a few pictures for his scrapbook. Of course, it has only been two months since Dick earned his badge, so this kind of thing might happen more often in the future. If so, then he definitely needs to develop a plan for how to deal with the potential for accidentally witnessing and documenting crimes.

He frowns, considering his options carefully.

_If I don’t take any action, I will become complicit in any crimes these men commit in the future. If I go to Dick and try to tell him what I saw, he probably won’t believe me and might even try to find out who I am. He’d probably end up calling my _parents.

An involuntary shiver passes through him as he imagines their likely reactions to _that _little unexpected phone call. They’ve been fighting lately, he knows, and the absolute _last _thing they need is him adding in any way to their problems.

_I guess I could just send an anonymous package to Officer Grayson’s attention at the precinct. _Tim smiles. He can definitely trust Dick to do the right thing with any information he sends.

In the end, his course of action is obvious.

Gotham needs good people working to protect her, and those people in turn need all the help they can get. Dick Grayson has unwittingly given Tim so much over the years, from his first and only hug to the knowledge of what family can be when _all _the members love each other.

Even only glimpsed from afar, the sight of Dick with his family always fills him with warmth and happiness for the older boy who once lost everything. It’s only fair that he starts to give something back to the man now, after all these years of living vicariously through him.

_It’s time to do my part. _Tim smiles, already planning out how this is going to go.

* * *

It’s snowing the day they put his parents in the ground. Gloomy, gray clouds hang ominously low overhead as frozen tears fall from the sky. He doesn’t feel the cold, though, or maybe he’s just numb.

The silence in the apartment presses painfully in as Tim shucks his wet coat and kicks his shoes off by the door, not bothering to place them neatly in the rack.

After all, it isn’t as though his parents are going to care. Not that it mattered much when they _were _alive, considering they spent most of their time traveling and barely even noticed him during the rare occasions they were in the country.

But they’re _never_ coming back this time. Jack and Janet Drake are _dead, _and with them any hope that someday they might turn around and decide to notice their son. To love him and be a real family together. He sniffs and brushes away some moisture from his cheek.

_Stupid snow. Anyway, it’s not like _that _was likely to ever happen. But I loved them. No matter what they thought of me, I _loved _them, and they’re _gone. Tears run down his cheeks unchecked as he finally allows himself to cry. _I thought… I really thought once I grew up, and was able to follow them into the business and talk to them like an adult… They might like me._

_Now I’ll never know._

As for the supposed uncle appointed Tim’s guardian by their will… Well, he’s not going to care about his nephew’s tidiness, either.

How could he, when he exists only on paper? Forging his parents’ will was little effort compared to the potential consequences of allowing events to play out unimpeded.

_At least I’m not going to get stuck in foster care. And I can keep up my work anonymously helping Dick solve cases. In fact, without having to worry about my parents coming home unexpectedly, it’ll be a lot easier to do stakeouts and get incriminating evidence now._

Poor comfort, but at this point he’ll take what he can get.

The court case was easier to settle than he’d expected, so here he is, twelve years old and totally alone in the world. Thank goodness there’s enough money from the sale of what was left of Drake Industries to pay for his needs until he’s old enough to find work and provide for himself.

And the false uncle he invented made it all too easy to withdraw himself from school and switch to a home school program, the better to free up time for his detective work.

_Surprisingly how easy it was to hire an actor to play my uncle. All I had to do was set it up through email and make it sound like Edward Drake just needed a body double there because he was tied up with Drake Industries, but couldn’t be seen to have missed his own brother’s funeral._

He’ll probably have to do something similar periodically to make sure his _uncle _appears just often enough so as not to arouse suspicion. Easy enough, and it really will free so much more of his time to help his hero.

It’s amazing how much he’s been able to do to assist Officer Grayson over the past year. Mostly just packets of anonymous photographs, printed and packaged in different ways so it won’t be obvious they’re all from the same person. But _now…_

It might be time to change that. He’s noticed it seems to take the police a while to verify each packet, and sometimes they take too long to act on his tips.

_If I establish myself as a single, reputable source and build up their trust over time, I bet they’d act immediately on urgent tips from me. But… What can I call myself?_

He frowns as he dries his face, thinking about possible pseudonyms and not finding anything that feels quite right.

Sighing, he crosses the silent room and settles down at his computer desk. Booting up his primary machine, he lets his mind drift back to the way the Graysons looked, eight years ago on the last night they flew. Graceful arcs in the air, drawn by flashes of gold, green, and a vibrant, vivid _red…_

Tim smiles. _Red. That’ll work._

The machine finishes loading and he focuses on the screen, allowing his mind to settle into the comfortable groove of casework. He really needs a distraction from his own thoughts and the pressing emptiness of the apartment right now. Trying to find a way to end the political corruption that has caused more than a few known criminals to go free in the city will definitely fit the bill.

Reviewing the case, he quickly realizes what needs to be done. He already has a few photographs of Councilman Brady accepting bribes, but what he _truly_ needs is concrete financial evidence. It’s shockingly easy to get into the man’s records.

_People really need to expend a little more effort when selecting their default passwords, especially on bank websites._ _Using the same password for your bank account and email is just sloppy. Especially when it’s something as dumb as ‘12345678’, oh my god. It’s like people _want _to be caught or robbed, I swear._

Any evidence he gathers this way won’t be admissible in court, of course, but it _will_ provide a starting point for the police investigation. And Officer Dick Grayson is excellent at his job. A nudge in the right direction is usually all he needs. And _this… _Well, the evidence of bribery and payoffs he’s able to gather between the email and financial records is going to provide more than enough to get Grayson going on bringing this baddie down.

Tim stares at the screen until his eyes burn. For a few hours, he manages to forget that he’s even more alone now than ever.

_At least I can still do good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tiny Tim, unsupervised and alone: ** *Fixates on only person who ever showed him any kindness* “Imma follow Officer Grayson into crime-ridden areas and take pictures!”  
**Officer Grayson, unaware of being watched: ** “Boy howdy, I sure wish it was easier to get evidence around here”  
**Tiny Tim, eyes shining with youthful fervor: ** “Done and done!” *Skitters through crack-dens and alleyways, photographing dangerous criminals mid-crime. Sends photos in to precinct*  
**Jack and Janet Drake, disappointing as always: ** *Die offscreen rather than give a single fuck for their only child*  
**Tiny Tim, sniffling pitifully: ** *Sets up fake uncle to avoid falling into Gotham’s corrupt system, immediately devotes entire life to solving crimes rather than process his grief and loneliness in a healthy way*  
(Yes, he totally pulls a Bruce)


	2. Chapter 2

Dick strides into the precinct, arms loaded with case files he needs to return, with the expectation of a quiet hour or so catching up on paperwork. He’s looking forward to a little bit of down time because while he thrives on physical activity, even _his_ legs start to ache after a long, vigorous patrol.

His hopes of a quiet evening come crashing down at the sight of the smirk on Officer Denton’s face, which never bodes well. “What is it?” he asks, suspicious. Officer Denton isn’t _that_ bad, but she’s cynical after a life of seeing it all working for GCPD. The only times he’s ever seen her appear happy are when someone else is about to get trolled.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” she grins, handing him another stack of reports as though he doesn’t _already_ have more than enough to do.

“Great.” He smiles weakly back because _he_ isn’t an asshole. “Thanks.”

He makes his way through the bullpen to his desk, buried in the far corner. He’s pretty sure he could ask for an upgrade at this point after having been a detective for a couple of years now, in the running for the best case closure rate in the entire precinct, but he doesn’t really mind the supposedly poor location. It’s quiet and private, and no one goes back there unless they specifically need to talk to him. And considering the fact he’s usually out walking his beat, it isn’t as though he spends that much time here, anyway.

As he approaches, he keeps his eyes peeled for any practical jokes some of the others might have set up. Gloria Denton never looks _that _happy without a reason. There’s nothing hanging over the opening into his cubicle, and the walls seem free of any offensive or outlandish decorations. Although…

The writing on the whiteboard hanging on his cubicle wall by the entrance doesn’t look quite right.

“That's not my to-do list for today…” He moves closer, trying to make out what it says.

_Oh my god, Jason!_

In his little brother’s handwriting, in glaring all caps so the message is completely unmistakable, his whiteboard now reads:

**DICK IS IN URANUS**

**HR HAS BEEN NOTIFIED**

_Well, _that’s _a sexual harassment complaint just waiting to happen. Thanks for that, Jay._

_“Jason!”_ Dick snatches the whiteboard down and storms into his cube carrying it to confront his grinning younger brother. The brazen twenty year-old is currently sprawled in _his_ chair with his feet up on the desk, playing solitaire on his computer. Which _should _have been password-locked.

_Guess it’s time to change _that _again. Why is my little brother so good at guessing my passwords?_

Well, that’s a problem for_ future _Dick to deal with. Right now… “What are you doing here? There’s sensitive evidence in my office—”

The younger man shrugs unrepentantly, grinning. “Alfie sent me to get you. He wants you to come back to the Manor for dinner tonight. And Gloria let me in.”

_Of _course_ Gloria, who doesn’t like _anyone,_ thinks Jason’s completely adorable and lets him get away with whatever he wants,_ Dick thinks, half amused and half despairing. His little brother can be charming when he wants to be, especially when he’s in the company of a kindred spirit who shares his incomprehensible delight in tormenting Dick.

And as for Alfred actually _sending Jason _to get him… Ten to one the canny old man knew perfectly well Dick would likely get caught up in his work and forget all about dinner if he simply called or sent a message. His mischievous sibling, though, is _much _more difficult to ignore. _Well played, Alfred._

“Well, before we go, what else did you get up to here to entertain yourself?” He looks around with a practiced eye, and rolls his eyes at the plethora of pranks he sees.

There are numerous _Bruce Wayne action figures, _all dressed in differing attire, posed in various positions all over his desk. Each one stares at him with a disturbingly vapid grin. There’s one in a business suit which seems to be attempting to lift his phone from the cradle, both miniature arms wrapped around it as though to heave it up and make a call. He spots one in rock-climbing gear dangling from his bookshelf, another poised beneath it with arms extended like it’s going to try to catch its ill-fated companion.

He snorts a laugh as he notices the one relaxing in swim trunks and sunglasses on a tiny chaise lounge next to his fish tank, looking for all the world like Bruce himself indulging in one of his rare vacations.

_I’ve got to take pictures of all this before I take it down. Damn, these are _hilarious. _I don’t know what the heck B was thinking when he gave Lucius the okay to merchandise _himself_ to raise money for charity, but it’s like the gift that keeps on giving. I’m definitely going to set this all up again in B’s library or study later and then record his reaction._

There’s more, though. The framed portrait of Babs laughing in his arms which usually sits by his computer has been replaced with… Dick sighs, facepalming to smother a groan. He peeks through his fingers, just to confirm that it’s _almost _the same picture, except Babs’ lovely face has been replaced with Albert Einstein’s. It’s hideous and disturbing, but actually a surprisingly good editing job for a throwaway joke like this.

She’ll probably get a kick out of the implied compliment to her intelligence, but still. _This _isn’t an image he’s going to be able to get out of his head any time soon.

_Why, Jason… Why?_

At least there doesn’t seem to be any glitter this time. He shudders at _that _traumatizing little memory.

Considering Jason’s using his computer right now, there’s a very strong chance he’ll need to restore a lot of settings to avoid embarrassing noises accompanying error messages and the like. Last time Jason got into his machine, loud belches filled the bullpen every time someone sent Dick an email. And _of course_ his _delightful_ little brother took the opportunity to send literally hundreds of memes to his inbox in order to trigger the horrendous sound, all while he was in a meeting and couldn’t do anything to stop or change the sounds filling the bullpen.

_Yeah, I can’t believe Officer Denton still lets Jason enter the building after _that.

It had taken _forever _to fix the sound settings, and also to hunt down and remove the browser extension that replaced every single image on every page with embarrassing childhood photos of Dick. And restore his autocorrect to the proper settings so it would stop automatically changing his correctly typed words to awful misspellings and embarrassing boy band names.

Also to find and delete every terrible tweet his horrible little brother had made on _his _Twitter account, making spurious claims about his love of cereal. To be fair, he _does _love cereal, just not… in a _physical _sense like Jason had implied. He _still _gets the occasional callout on Twitter about that, and _Hashtag Cereal Fucker _is a nickname he’ll probably _never _be able to shake completely.

_Well, at least it’s night time and there’s no one else around. I’ll have plenty of time to do damage control._

Except then he notices what_ else_ is on his desk. “Jay, is that my Red X casefile? Were you…? Did you _read_ that? Jason, you know better than to read an active casefile! Just because you’re my little brother doesn’t mean—”

The case, which centers around the mystery of the anonymous tips he’s received over the years, each signed first with a single X the color of blood and then later with just the word ‘Red’, is _not _something with which he needs or wants his little brother’s assistance.

Especially not with the ever-increasing potential for danger involved in that case as the stakes continue to grow.

“Relax, Dickie, of _course_ I didn't read it. But you should know better than to just leave that shit lying around—”

“It was on my desk at _work_. It’s not like I brought it home and left it on the coffee table! I’m not _that_ irresponsible!” Dick rolls his eyes and chivvies his little brother away from his desk. “C’mon, I’ll fix all this mess in the morning. I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you here any longer than necessary.” He attempts a stern expression, but fails completely when he catches sight of the little Bruce action figure rappelling down from the cubicle wall by the exit.

_Geez, that’s stupidly adorable. I’m absolutely going to set that one up in the corner of B’s office at home and see how long it takes him to notice._

Grumbling, Jason follows him, still wearing an insouciant grin on his handsome young face. “I’m just messin’ around.”

Dick turns toward him with a slight frown, not liking the defensive tone he catches despite the younger man’s effort to hide it. His little brother is surprisingly vulnerable beneath the rough, confident exterior, and it wouldn’t do to allow him to think his jokes have pushed him away. “I know, it’s fine. As long as you stayed away from the casefiles.”

Seriously, considering the pranks _he’s _pulled on his younger siblings over the years, he deserves whatever he gets. He catches the younger man’s shoulder and gives him a reassuring squeeze.

“Of course.” Jason shakes him off, but not before he catches the quick, relieved smile on his face or the slight relaxation of the muscles beneath his hand.

Dick’s mood lightens with relief. “Hey, how are you liking working at WE? Getting used to wearing a suit yet?” He raises a brow, then laughs at the annoyed eye-roll he gets in response to his teasing. “You’ll be running the place and getting gray hairs before you know it.”

“Hell no!” Jason blanches at the thought and elbows him in the side. “No _way. _The kid’s the one who wants to step into B’s shoes, not me. I’m just gonna get the experience with the youth programs and see if it’s a good fit. I want to _help _people, not wear a damn suit for the rest of my life.”

_Helping people… That’s my little bro. And it’s what _I’m_ meant to be doing here, too. Only… Am I?_

As they walk toward Dick’s car, he thinks about the Red X case. It’s not one he has a good feeling about, honestly. X, or Red, or whatever the heck his name really is has been sending him tips since almost the beginning of his time with GCPD. He probably wouldn’t be where he is today if it weren’t for the mysterious informant’s numerous contributions.

_I wouldn't be wearing this badge if it weren’t for Red X, _he thinks, feeling guilty over the growing suspicions he can no longer push away. _But the tips have gotten bigger over the years, and I just can’t ignore the possibility that my informant is actually in deep with the very organizations they keep giving me intel on. What if Red X is just feeding me tips to bring down their competition, and by cooperating I’m guilty of enabling a _worse_ criminal to gain power in the city?_

_I _can’t_ allow this to continue, not if there’s a chance I could stop a major criminal from doing worse than they already have._

He sighs, unlocking the car and then reaching past his little brother to open his door. He grins as he gently intercepts Jason’s head where he’s about to knock it into the doorframe. He still hasn’t gotten used to his growth spurt.

“You don’t gotta shove my head down like I’m a damn criminal,” the younger man complains, and Dick laughs.

“I just don’t want you bashing your brains out on my car, Jay.” He somersaults over the car before sliding into the driver’s seat, showing off a little.

His brother blushes and slouches down a little, embarrassed at the reminder of how often he knocks his head into things these days.

“You’ll get used to it after a while!” Dick smiles encouragingly and Jason snorts a laugh.

“Like _you’re_ one to talk. Did you ever even _have _a growth spurt?” He gives a lopsided grin as the car pulls forward.

_Now that’s just mean. _“Hey, I’m not short! I’m average height for a man in this country, _you’re_ just unusually tall!”

“Come over here so I can rest an elbow on your head.” Jason’s openly laughing now and Dick rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, like _that’s_ gonna happen!” He can’t help but laugh at the thought, though.

His little brother eyes him, one brow raised consideringly, then smirks. “It totally is. I’ll just wait ‘till later tonight when you've forgotten I said it.”

Dick shakes his head, concentrating on the road and trying to hide his smile. He doesn’t want to admit it, but that’s probably what’s going to happen.

_Whatever, I don’t _really_ mind my baby brother being taller than me. I’m just so proud of the man he’s grown up to be. But if he actually rests an elbow on my head later, I’m totally going to flip him and pin him down so I can give him a noogie. Can’t risk him setting a bad example for Damian. After all, that kid’s sure to outgrow me too before long._

The problem of Red X slips to the back of his mind. Right now, it’s time to enjoy his family.

* * *

_These intern interviews are a goddamn joke,_ Jason thinks as he reluctantly scans the relevant details in the next application packet on the table before him. _Every damn applicant so far has been a total entitled asshole. Why the hell did B make me do these, again? Oh yeah, because he knew how much this would suck and he has better shit to do._

Jason checks the name on the papers in his hand, expecting another Kane or Van Buren or any number of other high-ranking families in Gotham, each hoping to get one of their snooty little brats an in to the Wayne empire. It’s _Drake_, which is familiar-sounding enough he’s got a feeling this fucker’s just as rich as the rest of them.

_Great._

He thinks wistfully about the other internship interviews, the ones B handles personally for disadvantaged youth who’ve actually _earned_ everything they’ve been given. Those are the kids he wants to be working with, the ones he’ll get to help someday when he takes over the WE programs in the city dedicated to providing training and assistance to city youth.

But those spots have already been filled with deserving applicants. All that’s left are the slots open to general applicants, which apparently equals a full-on feeding frenzy for every goddamn shark in Gotham trying to get in good with his dad.

“Fuckin’ asshats,” he mutters under his breath.

“Excuse me?” answers a polite, cultured voice from the doorway.

Jason looks up in surprise to see a slim, short young man with bright blue eyes, slightly messy black hair and a hesitant, uncertain look on his handsome face. “Uh, I can come back later…?”

His light tenor voice is pleasant and he’s attractive enough it takes Jason a moment to notice he’s biting his soft pink lip and beginning to carefully back out of the room, looking worried.

_“Fuck!_ Shit, I mean—” He scrubs his hand through his hair, realizing mid-motion that now his own hair must be as messy as this guy’s. _What the fuck was his name again? Oh yeah._ “Drake! C’mon in, man, sorry about all that. I was just kinda distracted.”

_Yeah, by how damn _cute_ you are._

He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the inappropriate thought. While the interns applying to this program are all within a couple years of his own age, it’s wildly inappropriate to be thinking about any of them in anything but a completely detached, professional context.

At least while he’s on the hiring committee. Once someone is hired, it’s just a matter of filing the right paperwork to disclose intent to date a coworker… Jason blinks, reigning in his runaway thought train before it derails into embarrassing fantasies about taking the cute young man in front of him out on a date, then taking him home and treating him _right_.

_Holy shit, I’m really fuckin’ getting ahead of myself, here. This guy may be pretty but ten to one he’s just as much of a bag of dicks as the rest of ‘em._

“Okay…” The shorter man eyes him before apparently deciding to just roll with his odd behavior and sitting down across from him at the round table.

_Well, if he already thinks I’m nuts I might as well go full throttle. I got nothin’ to lose after a shitty first impression like _that.

“So, I’m just gonna cut the bullshit and get straight to the point. Why do you want to work at Wayne Enterprises?” For the other applicants, he’d led up to the important questions by chatting about their interests in school and whatever other crap they had listed in their applications before delving into their true goals and motivations in applying to WE.

Every single one had a perfectly rehearsed, political answer, and not a damn one rang even remotely true.

He leans back in his chair, waiting. Pretty face or not, he’s not about to let anyone into the family company who’s just in it for what they can get, be it corporate secrets, sabotage, or even just a connection to the Waynes to lean on later.

To his surprise, Drake’s face breaks into a rueful but genuine-appearing smile. “Well, the answer to that question is kind of embarrassing, but the truth is Wayne Enterprises is the closest thing in the city to the kind of business my parents ran before they were killed.” He bites his lip again, looking pensive as Jason sits up a little straighter in his chair at the unexpected revelation.

_Wow, shit. Both his parents, that sucks. He’s a little young to be on his own, though, isn’t he?_

Based on the application in front of him, Drake is seventeen. Depending on how long ago he lost he parents, it’s possible he’s been in the system for a few years, unless he’s one of the lucky ones who actually had other family to step in or got adopted by someone who wasn’t a total waste of skin.

Jason knows all too well the kind of shit a kid in that situation has to put up with. The fact that Drake obviously comes from money at some point along the way doesn’t go as far to allay his concerns as it should.

“I’m sorry,” he says awkwardly after a long moment.

“It was a long time ago,” Drake answers. “But the business… It was what they always wanted for me. I can’t ever talk to them again or make them proud, but I want to honor them by respecting their wishes in this.” He shrugs, looking down and biting his lip before glancing up again hesitantly. “Besides, it’s a chance to do good work and make a positive difference in the world.”

_Well fuck me. He’s totally sincere. I don’t think this guy’s one of the entitled douchebags_…_ Which means_…

_He’s definitely getting my recommendation, just based on that alone._

Nothing that comes out over the remainder of the interview changes his mind. If anything, Drake’s thoughtful responses and clear, incisive intelligence only cement his initial impression of trustworthy competence.

The ultimate hiring decision is with the committee, of course, after another interview for those applicants who pass the initial winnowing and screening process.

But he’s really hoping Drake makes it through. Jason’s basically just one step up from an intern himself, working over the summer before dropping back to part time when he starts his second year at Gotham University.

Which means he’ll be working and interacting quite a bit with whomever gets hired to fill this position. He’d rather not have to spend time around an entitled asshole.

And…

Jason watches as Drake gathers up his coffee cup, standing hesitantly with a quick, sweet smile before shaking his hand firmly. He slips quietly out the door, movements fast and graceful.

_There’s something special about him. I think_…_ I’d like to know him better._

He looks down at the application again to read the guy’s first name, something he’d neglected to do when under the assumption the applicant would be just another rich bastard.

_Tim._ Jason tries it out a few times, enjoying the sound of it.

It's a good name, short and cute like its owner. Fitting. He lifts a brow and turns back to stare after him.

_I could get used to saying that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, tired and ready to relax at the end of a long day: ** *Walks into precinct only to be assaulted by all the practical jokes a bored brother can devise* “WTF” *Becomes covered in glitter somehow, attempts to enter cubicle only to bounce off clear plastic wrap stretched across door* “Dammit, Jason!”  
**Jason, laughing so hard he can’t speak: ** *Falls off chair, continues laughing on the floor. Wipes tears from eyes as he finally stands up* “Fuck, Dickie, did you even notice your hair is purple now?”  
**Dick, touching his hair protectively, cursing: ** “How did you even DO that?!” *Claws his way through plastic wrap to get at Jason*  
**Jason, sprinting away, laughing hysterically as Officer Denton snaps pictures: ** “You don’t wanna know!”  
**Dick, already working the purple hair: ** “You know, this isn’t so bad” *Grins evilly, clearly planning epic embarrassment to get Jason back for all the pranks*  
**Jason, regretting everything: ** “Aw fuck” *Goes to work to try to forget, meets cute boy* “Sweet! Finally, someone who has absolutely nothing to do with my crazy family and ridiculous older brother in particular” *Smiles in blissful ignorance*


	3. Chapter 3

Tim usually tries to maintain his composure during sleuthing activities, but right now he’s legitimately concerned that if he has to spend much longer watching Reginald Siemens make an ass of himself, his face is going to get permanently stuck in his most judging expression.

_I know this is Gotham,_ he thinks incredulously as he mechanically snaps another photograph, watching the lawyer in question slap the rear of one of the scantily clad hostesses, _but this is ridiculous even for us. _The poor woman just smiles nervously, unable to protest the crude action.

_Everything about this guy is filthy. Even his _name _is basically a dirty joke._

Tim strongly suspects tonight’s _entertainment _all belong to the prostitution ring Siemens is almost certainly running on the side. He’s found circumstantial evidence that the crooked lawyer is perfectly willing to make arrest records and prostitution charges go away… _If _the man or woman in question is willing to go to work for _him, _under ever worse working conditions and pay than is standard in the city underworld.

_He’s a monster, and they’re just smiling at him. Do they all know_ _what he’s done? Do they even _care?

Siemens is currently lounging by the expansive, crystal-clear pool on the balcony at one of the city’s nicer hotels, surrounded by beautiful women who’ve most likely been ordered to make sure all the guests have a good time. Mingling around the shimmering pool and within the gaily lit adjacent ballroom are the guests. Those include various city officials, businessmen, known gang leaders, investors, and any number of glitterati who were probably just invited to add color, and cover, to the party.

There’s a chance any, or _all _of them may be doing business with the sketchy lawyer. Right now, it’s Tim’s self-appointed job to document _everyone _who’s in attendance, especially anyone who approaches Siemens. Later, the photographs and recordings he collects now will provide valuable evidence as he pieces together more of the extensive network that makes up the man’s criminal empire.

It’s a lot of work for just another dirty lawyer. But this case goes far beyond the usual slightly sketchy legal practices and into the realm of master criminal.

_Over-charging his hours is one thing. I’m sure Siemens is far from the only lawyer in the city who regularly charges clients for a thirty-hour day. But his involvement in intimidation practices and possibly outright _murder _definitely puts him on a whole new level._

He’s crouched beside the utility room on the rooftop of the adjacent apartment building and has a great view. It’s an excellent hiding place, if a little cramped. He watches in horrified disgust as the tall, angular but deceptively handsome criminal in question smiles charmingly while shaking hands with a young man Tim recognizes.

_Oh, shit…_

That’s the man he met at Wayne Enterprises when he went in for his first interview last week. It’s the same guy he’d seen on occasion over the years, whenever Dick Grayson had his middle brother with him at one of his events.

Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne’s second adopted son.

_Definitely _not someone whose picture he wants to _ever _have to send to Detective Grayson as a suspected accessory to a federal crime.

_Uh-oh._

Dick’s really the one he watched over the years, an endeavor made easy by the fact the eldest Wayne heir _thrives _in the spotlight and actively seeks it out. His younger brothers always hang back from the public eye, so Tim’s impressions of them aren’t nearly as solid. He knows Todd came from a rough background, made excellent grades in school, and won a scholarship to Gotham U, but the man’s actual interests and character are something of a blank to him. The fact that he reportedly declined to accept the scholarship because he felt it would be put to better use by someone without his advantages is a point in his favor.

Todd _seemed_ like a decent person, even if he was a bit standoffish at the beginning of the interview and acted somewhat distracted throughout. And he must have thought Tim was okay too, considering he made it through to the next round of interviews and now it’s just a matter of waiting to hear back on if he got the position.

_I really want that job. It’s a great opportunity, besides being a way to maybe feel a little closer to Mom and Dad._

But if Wayne Enterprises is involved with scum like _Siemens…_

Well.

There are other jobs out there.

Still… It’s entirely possible Siemens is just approaching the handsome young heir for the first time, or that Todd is the only person at Wayne Enterprises involved in the corrupt lawyer’s schemes. This gala is purportedly a benefit organized to raise money for the city’s orphans, so it’s not unexpected to see a Wayne making an appearance. Jason Todd was an orphan himself who lived on the streets prior to being found and adopted by Bruce Wayne, after all. It makes perfect sense for him to be here.

It’s just the company he’s keeping right now that’s suspicious. Tim snaps a photograph.

He doesn’t want to think about how much it will hurt Dick Grayson if any of his family turn out to be involved with the very same corruption he’s working so hard to cleanse from the city.

_If I get the WE internship, I can keep a close eye on Todd, just in case._

He doesn’t mean to dwell on the fact that the idea of spending time with the older man wouldn’t constitute much of a hardship, but… Todd is _very _good-looking, gorgeous really, with a handsome face, impressive height, broad shoulders and arms showcased in that fitted designer suit, and flashing blue eyes. His muscular chest narrows down to slim hips over thick thighs threatening to burst out of his expensively tailored slacks, and…

Tim blinks rapidly and then swallows, glancing down to quickly check his camera and… _Huh._

_I just took sixty-nine close-ups of Jason Todd. Whoops._

His brow furrows as he considers the many potential pitfalls of developing an ill-advised crush on someone who might be a criminal. Not to mention the fact that they could end up being coworkers.

_This is a terrible idea._

Against his will, his gaze drags down to the camera again. In the photo on the screen, Todd’s standing by the pool, glitter on his face from where he rubbed his cheek at some point after shaking hands with Siemens. The glitter was on_ that _guy’s hands because he’s gross and won’t stop pawing at the entertainment, who are all basically _covered _in the stuff.

It looks really pretty, shimmering there on Todd’s cheek and bringing out the sparkle in his bright blue eyes.

In the photograph, Todd is laughing at something, with a devil-may-care grin that grabs hold of something in Tim and _pulls._ He sighs, continuing to stare at the screen even as a reluctant smile builds on his own face.

_Well, even if he _is _a criminal, maybe he’s not in too deep and I can help him reform?_

He glances up just in time to see a furious-looking Todd _shove Siemens into the pool_ and then turn solicitously to one of the scantily-clad prostitutes, apparently comforting her as she sniffles. She casts an angry look at the man clumsily flailing in the water and then turns her back on him.

He blinks, facts, observations, and conclusions quickly rearranging themselves in his mind in light of this new evidence.

…_Or not. Somehow, I doubt those two will be working together after _this. _Doesn’t look like Todd’s a budding criminal, after all. Maybe more of a wandering knight, gallantly seeking adventure and rescuing the downtrodden._

_That’s hot._

Tim smiles as he watches the drenched man sputter furious threats and then begin backpedaling, probably upon remembering just how deep his aggressive guest’s pockets are and how little anyone in Gotham wants to make an enemy of Bruce Wayne. Meanwhile, Todd is escorting the young woman out and handing her a card, probably for one of the numerous shelters subsidized or run by WE.

_Handsome, brave, and kind. A bit impulsive, but I can roll with that._

_I knew I liked this guy for a reason._

As Tim settles into place for a few more hours of carefully documenting the interactions at the party, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He glances at it quickly, and then reads the email over again with a growing grin of surprise and delight.

_Oh, yeah! I got the internship!_

It’s a good thing he’s so well-hidden on this rooftop because otherwise the little happy dance he does at receiving the good news would be super-embarrassing.

* * *

“So, you were homeschooled?” Jason edges a couple of inches closer to the new intern, pretending he needs to use the copier.

He_ really_ doesn’t. This is the fucking sorry excuse for a copy machine the eighties abandoned and for some godforsaken reason Wayne Enterprises kept.

Jason suspects its presence is actually a test for new employees; how much frustration can they take before breaking? When they inevitably _do _break, will they do so in a manner befitting of a WE employee, or will they just attack the damn thing with their bare fists while chanting war-cries of primal rage and hatred?

He blinks the vivid thought away. Sometimes his imagination gets a little out of hand.

Tim looks up, startled, from where he’s assembling what looks like packets of information for an upcoming press release about the WE summer youth programs for kids with working parents. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize you were there. Um. Homeschool? I guess you remember that from my application.” He shrugs. “I was always kind of bored in school, and my uncle thought I’d do better going at my own pace and being able to choose subjects that actually interested me. I’m seventeen and I’m enrolled at Gotham U starting fall semester, so it worked out, I guess.”

_Skipping a year of school… I figured he was smart, but damn. Still… How did he meet other kids and make friends?_

“Tell me to quit if I’m being an asshole, but wasn’t that kinda lonely?” Jason almost regrets the question when he sees Tim’s face fall briefly before the younger man turns back to his work, biting his bottom lip.

He shrugs, answering lightly, “Nothing I wasn’t used to. I’ve never made friends easily.”

_Aw, kid…_

Well, that would go a long way toward explaining the fact Jason’s online research, which he _refuses _to call stalking, turned up so little about the other man. No Facebook, no Twitter, hell, he doesn’t even have a damn Instagram. It’s unusual for someone his age to have such a non-existent social media footprint… But it makes an awful kind of sense, if he doesn’t have any friends.

_Can’t see why, if it weren’t for his uncle isolating him like that. He’s smart, funny, and kind of a dork. He should have a pack of friends and a down-to-earth, sexy, nerdy girlfriend who makes him laugh._

“So, you got a girlfriend?” He bites his tongue, but the words are already out. He definitely hadn’t meant to ask such a personal question out of the blue like that.

_Fuck it. Might as well hear the answer. If he_ is_ taken, it’s a hell of a lot better to know now so I can reign in my damn dick and stick to making friends with him instead._

Tim blushes and nibbles his lip again, glancing up shyly at Jason before answering. “Uh, no. No girlfriend… No boyfriend, either.” He blushes harder, ducking his head and reaching out to furiously resume assembling packets. “You?”

Jason swallows, trying to fight back his shit-eating grin and then just giving up. “Single, for now.” He raises an eyebrow and leans against the counter to catch Tim’s eye, smirking.

_Good to know where I stand with him now. And damned if he isn’t interested in me, as well… Look at that cute blush. Goes down under his shirt, too…_

He swallows, feeling his own cheeks heat as he surreptitiously checks to make sure he didn’t start _drooling _just now, holy shit.

The younger man shakes his head at him, trying not to laugh. “What the heck did you even come in here for? I _know_ it’s not to make copies.”

_Damn, I _am _being_ _really fuckin’ obvious, I guess. Oh well. Subtlety ain’t one of my strong points._

They both turn to stare briefly at the decrepit copier. As though sensing their attention, it emits a distressing screech which grows in volume until Jason reflexively kicks it just to make it _shut the fuck up_. It shudders in response and then slowly extrudes a crumpled, yellowed sheet of paper under their astonished, disbelieving gaze.

Raising a brow, Jason snags it and takes a look. “Uh.”

_…Wow. Well, that’s fuckin’ unexpected._

“What is it?” Tim crowds up beside him and stands on his tiptoes to try to peek over his arm, because he’s utterly adorable and every action he takes is seemingly designed to make Jason want to hug him.

They both stare at the paper, a totally unremarkable memo warning employees not to use the copier until a repairman can be called because otherwise it might be permanently damaged.

It’s dated the summer of 1999.

_Well fuck, I guess that explains a hell of a lot about this piece of shit._

Tim starts to snicker. A loud snort slips out of Jason, followed by a chuckle as they make eye contact, grinning. The next moment, they both start laughing, leaning into each other in a way that feels thrilling and yet somehow totally comfortable at the same time.

He can already see the shape of what their interactions have the potential to be over the next few weeks. Flirting might lead to hanging out outside of work, which could turn into dates, and then… He grins.

_Damn, this is going to be _great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, watching criminal at a party and taking pictures of debauchery: ** “It’s good to document all of this guy’s associates so when he goes down we can send these assholes to jail too” *Watches in horror as criminal shakes Jason’s hand* “Aw shit”  
**Jason, blithely unaware of being observed: ** *Punches shitstain criminal in the face and strides out*  
**Tim, doing a happy dance: ** “Yay!” *Gets email saying he’s got an internship with Wayne Enterprises, happy-dances so energetically he almost falls off roof* “Whoops”  
**Jason, conducting smooth office flirtation: ** “Hey there Baby, I gotta file a workplace safety incident report, because I just fell for you” *Winks, trips over own feet and actually falls*  
**Tim, legitimately concerned: ** “Oh my god are you okay?!” *Drops to his knees at Jason’s side*  
**Jason, wheezing: ** *Tries desperately to keep himself from blurting out how good Tim looks on his knees* “Yeah, I’m… Uh, fine. But I think I actually gotta file that incident form now, pretty sure I fucked my ankle” *Grins as Tim helps him sit up and doesn’t immediately let go* “Damn I’m smooth”


	4. Chapter 4

“So, what got you onto Tim Drake?” Babs drops a thick file on Dick’s desk right in front of where he’s sure he just meant to rest his head for a moment. He startles awake, blinking heavy eyes in surprise as he focuses on his girlfriend and coworker, the brilliant and beautiful crime analyst who is definitely just as responsible for all his successful case closures as Red.

_Wait, when did I fall asleep?_

He surreptitiously rubs the back of his hand across his mouth. Good, no drool. Although Babs has definitely seen him at his worst over the years, he still has that old urge to impress her. Otherwise, she might just decide she can do better.

Of course, she totally _can, _but they’re happy together and he likes to think that’s enough.

She’s staring at him expectantly, an amused smile tugging at her lovely lips as she takes in his no doubt disheveled appearance. Right, she asked a question. But…

“Uh. Who?” He clears his throat, blinking, scrubs his face again, and then sits up straighter. His muscles twinge in protest. These chairs were _not_ designed for sleeping.

One shapely red eyebrow slowly rises as his girlfriend’s expression of amusement fades to concern. “Just how tired are you, anyway? You did a background search on him a few hours ago. Seventeen years old, limited history due to having been pulled from school at age twelve after the death of his parents—” Babs says, then waits expectantly as he blinks in confusion before she continues, “—recently applied for and got an internship with WE? Is any of this ringing a bell yet?”

At those words, understanding of what must have happened dawns on him and he facepalms. “Oh my god,” he mutters into his hand. “Jason, _really?”_

_Why is he such a brat? Is this my punishment for all those times I teased him when we were younger? How was _I _supposed to know he’d hold a grudge and be so good at trolling me once he grew up?_

_Although… To be fair, I totally still tease him a lot. So maybe it’s less holding a grudge, and more immediate retaliation. Whatever, it’s still going too far when he uses precinct resources._

His little brother has been acting in an unusually secretive and flustered manner over the past week or so. Dick was actually a bit worried until he managed to get it out of Lydia in accounting that Jason’s been doing an awful lot of flirting with one of the recently hired interns.

Apparently, he also decided to take online stalking to the next level in his zeal for researching his new crush, exploiting Dick's lazy passwords to log in remotely and pull records on the poor guy. Which in turn triggered some flags on Babs’ radar, and…

_Whoops._

“So… I take it _you’re_ not the one who ran the search on Drake?” Babs sounds more amused than indignant, thank god. Misuse of police access to records is not something to take lightly, but Jason’s been pulling epic pranks since he was a kid and they haven’t quite succeeded in training it out of him yet.

They’ll probably never manage to do so, honestly. He’s a pretty stubborn kid. And considering the very first time he met Bruce was when he tried to steal the tires off his car, well… He could be doing a lot worse than a little light hacking.

_I guess I should be grateful he still hasn’t tried to steal all the tires off my cruiser and hide them while I’m out on patrol. Damn, he’s probably going to do that sometime, isn’t he?_

“I’ll change my password again,” Dick says with a sigh. “I’m not even sure how he keeps figuring it out!”

Babs laughs. “Maybe if you quit choosing easy-to-guess-passwords, like my birthday or the day we met, he’d actually have some trouble getting in.” She lifts an eyebrow at him, shaking her head. “Seriously, Dick? I _know _you can do better than that.”

_Point._

He shrugs; that’s fair. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do. Meanwhile, you came over here because you found something, didn't you?” She definitely wouldn’t have bothered if the search just turned up the information she’s already shared. There has to be something bigger going on here to have caught her attention to this extent. “Is this kid hiding some big secret? Don’t tell me it’s anything too bad, please? I’m pretty sure Jason’s already falling for the guy. Parking tickets, maybe?” His voice is hopeful even as his heart sinks.

By the hesitant, pitying expression on her face, it’s a lot worse than that.

_Ah, Jay_…_ I’m sorry, bud._

She takes a deep breath, then begins. “When I saw your search, I assumed this had something to do with the Red X case you’ve been investigating lately. The Parker case is cut and dried, and you aren’t actively working anything else at the moment. So, I dug into him a lot deeper than any casual search would go… and Dick?” She leans toward him, eyes flashing behind her glasses as a lock of dark red hair falls forward over her shoulder. “I found evidence that links this kid to Red X.”

_Well, shit._

_Jason _finally_ meets a boy he likes, and the guy turns out to be a baby criminal I’m going to have to arrest. This is going to make for some awkward family dinners._

“What have you got?” The kid’s innocent until proven guilty, but knowing Babs, there’s probably enough there to make a valid case against him. He also knows if the case against Drake isn’t ironclad, his brother won’t want to believe it.

She shrugs lightly. “He’s good, but I’m better. I have altered footage at various locations going back over the last month that lines up with when and where photos and intel Red X sent you were collected. I also have _un_altered footage from adjacent cameras within the time frames during which the activities would have occurred. The unaltered footage shows a young man who matches Tim Drake’s facial structure and body type entering every one of the temporary blind zones. His clothing and accessories vary, but our algorithm suggests it’s the same person in every shot.”

Dick slowly shakes his head, thinking it through. “It’s circumstantial. We’d never be able to nail him on just that.” He frowns. And Jason definitely won’t accept mere suspicions as a reason to break off whatever he has going with the guy. Especially if they’ve gone any farther than flirting.

Babs smirks, tilting her head toward the folder on his desk. “Well, about that… I may have some reasonably good news to make up for the bad. I think this kid is our informant, but I don’t actually believe _he’s_ behind the crimes. I also looked into his guardian, and on _paper _at first glance Edward Drake seems fine.” She opens the folder and begins spreading documents over his desk. “But when you scratch just below the surface—” She sweeps her hand out to indicate all the evidence she’s gathered. “Everything about him is falsified.”

As he peruses the documents, a frown of concentration deepening across his brow, he realizes the full extent of the fraud Babs has exposed. “…Oh my _god._ So this guy with no real traceable connection to the Drakes just _walked in there _after they died and _sold off their business?_ Took custody of _their kid_ and pulled him out of school? Oh, god. That poor kid, he must have been so confused and scared. How could this have _happened?”_

_I can’t believe that man got away with something like this! Even _here, _even in _Gotham… _Surely the system isn’t so corrupt that a child could be taken away by someone with no legal right to him? God, he was only _twelve…

He swallows, mind flooded with images of Jason at that age as well as their other little brother Damian. He’ll be twelve soon, and if anyone ever tried to take him away like that… His imagination balks at the thought of what he’d do, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be pretty.

“The forged will was well prepared and looked completely legitimate. Everything seemed to be in order. And the kid probably barely knew his own parents, considering how often they were out of the country before their deaths. Maybe leaving him in the hands of some stranger he’d never met before was actually in character for them, and _that’s _why he didn’t try to contest the guardianship or raise a fuss.” She looks troubled, likely thinking about what that poor child must have gone through over the years.

_I can’t even imagine._

Dick winces. “And if this guy committed the fraud that we already know about, and possibly other, _worse_ crimes depending on whether we can link him to the Drakes’ deaths as well…”

His girlfriend nods, a serious expression shadowing her lovely face. “He may very well have continued to engage in criminal activities even after settling in Gotham and getting his hands on the Drakes’ fortune.”

It makes a sickening kind of sense.

“And Tim… probably pretended to be tolerating it or unaware of it, and then…” He doublechecks the math and feels slightly ill. “Babs, Red X began sending me anonymous packets five years ago. He… Tim Drake would’ve been only _twelve years old_ when he started sending me photographic evidence of his uncle’s crimes.”

_Oh god, that poor little kid. He must have started sending the evidence as soon as he found out what Edward Drake was up to behind the scenes. I bet he was terrified. The _risks _he was taking_—

“We don't know for sure the uncle is the real criminal behind all the criminal activities Red reports,” Babs cautions, but it fits all too well to ignore the possible connection.

Although… It’s true that they shouldn’t draw conclusions based on incomplete data. They have a hypothesis, with a _lot _of gaps still to be filled. The biggest and potentially worst of which is the boy’s actual role in his uncle’s criminal activities.

_He could be sending evidence, and still be involved himself. The chance of Tim Drake being blameless in all of this is slim. Sorry, Jay… But I’m going to need to ask you what you know about this guy, and warn you he probably isn’t all he seems._

Dick frowns. “You’re right. And even if the uncle _is_ the main party responsible, we still don’t know how complicit Red actually is.” He sighs heavily, not looking forward to the next logical step. “I’ve got to talk to Jason.”

* * *

Jason shoves his way past Dickhead and out of the stupid diner, slamming the door behind him and storming down the street.

_That stupid fuckin’ bastard, thinks he knows anything about Timmy…! No damn way in _hell _he’s crooked, fuck._

He’s so pissed he’s gone three blocks before he even notices how fucking cold it is, night having fallen while they were eating dinner.

_And of _course_ I left my damn jacket back in the diner._

Thinking about the scene that went down after the steaks were finished just makes him furious all over again. He feels like he’s in the middle of a damn Shakespearean tragedy, epic fighting, struggle between good and evil, forbidden love, and all.

_How fuckin’ _dare_ he? Looking up the guy I’m interested in, spying on my damn love life—_

Except a tiny, annoyingly logical voice in the back of his mind reminds him _he’s_ the one who brought Tim to Dick’s attention, albeit unintentionally. He shouldn’t have used Dick’s login to check the younger man’s records, even if he hadn’t _meant _it as the massive invasion of privacy and misuse of precinct resources he now realizes it totally was.

_I just wanted to know more about him,_ he tries to justify himself_, _already recognizing the weakness of his argument.

_Fuck. I shoulda just talked to him, asked him questions. Let it all come out naturally. Instead I got impatient and ended up accidentally setting the fuckin’_ cops_ after him. Shit. Getting him thrown in jail definitely _ain’t _the romantic gesture I was looking for here._

His steps slow. The_ reason_ the cops are after Tim now…

_That’s_ the real root of his distress and fury, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. He wishes he could avoid thinking about the nightmare story Dick just told him about a lonely little orphaned boy who got snapped up by a greedy monster.

He can’t fuckin’ _believe _Tim had to deal with some random criminal taking over and liquidating his parents’ company and, so much worse, getting custody of him. Chillingly, the details of _what, _exactly the guy may have done to the kid over the years are still really sketchy.

_If he did anything… If he ever _touched _him…!_

Jason’s fists clench and he bares his teeth in rage at even the _thought _of the bastard doing anything worse than what Dick and Babs already uncovered. The fact that he managed to fight back at all, let alone act to _stop _so many crimes—it’s incredible.

But he _hates _the idea of Tim in such a horrible situation in the first place, stuck dealing with all that on his own for all those years. He doesn’t believe the guy he’s gotten to know would be complicit in any of his uncle’s crimes. And he sure as _shit _isn’t about to go along with Dick’s moronic plan of getting close to Tim just to turn around and spy on him for the fuckin’ police.

_They can do their own goddamn dirty work._

He’s thinking so hard about Tim that he almost thinks he’s imagining it when he spots him from across the street.

But that is _definitely_ him over there…

Breaking into what looks like an office building.

…_Huh._

Jason stares for a moment, head tilted, and then shrugs. Maybe this isn’t what it looks like. Tim could have a friend who works there or a late appointment or _something. _This doesn’t _have _to mean Dickie’s right about him being a budding criminal genius.

It doesn’t have to call into question everything he thinks he knows about the other young man. Because if he _is _a criminal… What the hell does that mean for _him?_

_If Tim’s a bad guy, then maybe he only got close to me to get to Wayne Enterprises, or my fuckin’ _dad… _Jesus Christ, I ain’t gonna cope well if that’s what this turns out to be. But I still don’t believe it. There’s _got _to_ _be another explanation for this. Maybe Tim’s in trouble._

He isn’t sure exactly what is going on inside that building right now, but whatever it is will likely provide the answers to all his questions. And he has faith in his friend. Unless he actually finds the younger man literally _in the act _of committing a crime, he’s going to keep an open mind about all this. He nods firmly and squares his shoulders before taking a step forward.

_Fuck it, I’m gonna follow him in. Might as well find out what the hell is going on right now and settle this shit one way or the other, once and for all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Babs, spilling a bunch of Tim’s most closely guarded secrets: ** “Oh hey, Tim’s Red X! Also, uncle-fraud!”  
**Dick, startling awake: ** “Eh? What? Wait, Tim’s evil step-uncle killed the Drakes, faked his own uncle-ness, and is forcing Tim to cook and clean for him and his evil cronies, Cinderfella-style?!” *Gasps dramatically* “How DARE—”  
**Babs, slightly puzzled over Dick’s insane leaps of logic: ** “…” *Tries to slow his roll, fails*  
**Dick, leaping to his feet: ** “To Jason! I must tear his young love asunder, just in case Tim inherits his fake uncle’s evil!” *Cartwheels to his patrol car as Babs facepalms*  
**Jason, rending his shirt melodramatically at the news he and Tim are star-crossed: ** “I don’t gotta listen to you, Dickhead! You’re not my REAL dad!” *Flounces out of diner in most melodramatic manner possible* “I won’t believe it unless I literally SEE Tim committing a crime with my OWN EYES” *Sees Tim committing a crime with his own eyes, pauses* “Huh”


	5. Chapter 5

The soft whir of the ventilation system and his own muffled footsteps on the plush carpet are the only sounds as Tim carefully checks under Siemens’ desk, hoping all of this risk hasn’t been for _nothing,_ and…

_There it is._

His gloved fingers close around a handle attached to a heavy, rectangular object which slides toward him when he gives it an experimental tug.

_Yes!_

The briefcase he’s long suspected contains the crooked lawyer’s notes and other potential evidence documenting his illegal activities is rarely separate from the man’s person. He’s never had an opportunity to examine it before, let alone a chance to actually photograph whatever’s inside.

Earlier this evening when Tim checked the surveillance footage outside the office, he hadn’t expected anything different from the usual sight of Siemens striding away clutching the case in his hand. When he’d noticed the man was empty-handed and realized he’d actually left for the night without it for once, he knew _exactly_ what he had to do.

_I just hope whatever's in there is worth the risk I’m taking by breaking in here._

If anyone catches him, it’ll be difficult if not impossible to talk his way out of the situation. Someone his age and social standing has no logical reason to know how to disable alarms and clandestinely enter a building, let alone a good reason for doing so.

_Maybe I could say it was a dare? Yeah, no. Too flimsy. Probably better off trying to convince them I’m drunk or something and wandered in through an open door by mistake. That seems like the kind of thing people would expect of wealthy young men going through their teenage rebellion or whatever. Maybe I can pretend I thought this was a bar? Hahaha lawyers, bar…_

He smirks as he lifts the briefcase and then quickly runs through Siemens’ usual array of numeric passwords until the lock springs open. The revealed contents are much as he expected based on the types of extracurricular activities in which the rogue lawyer engages. Spread out before him are small pouches of white powder, neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills, and a couple of thumb drives which _hopefully _contain proof of the man’s misdeeds.

Tim photographs everything meticulously and rapidly before pulling his tablet out of his backpack. He hurries to connect the first thumb drive. Siemens hasn’t shown any signs of being anywhere near the most technically savvy criminal he’s ever encountered, but even if there _are _tough security protocols, he’s confident his tech can handle them.

As it turns out, he had no reason to be concerned.

_Wow, I can't believe all he had in place was a password._

The data’s encrypted, but he can deal with that later. Tim copies everything and is just starting on the second drive when he hears what sounds like a noise from down the hallway. He freezes, heart pounding with adrenaline.

_Oh god, I can’t let anyone catch me here like this._

His brain works quickly, sifting through possible confrontations and outcomes. It’s unlikely to be janitorial staff considering today isn’t part of the regular cleaning schedule. Nobody stayed late after work, either. He checked the security footage prior to entering the building to confirm it was empty.

So… The most likely explanation is that someone came back. And while it _could_ theoretically just be an overachiever trying to clock some extra hours, chances are pretty high it’s Siemens, returning because he realized he forgot his briefcase. And if the crooked lawyer finds some random kid in his office, clearly in the process of _copying_ his highly confidential and potentially incriminating evidence… He swallows.

_Welp, I’m screwed, _Tim thinks as he quickly finishes the download and then hurries to get everything back the way he found it.

He’s just tucking the briefcase back under the desk and beginning to hope he might actually be able to pull this off when a voice from the doorway freezes his blood in his veins.

“What the actual_ fuck_ do you think you’re doing, _Drake?”_ It’s… It’s _Jason._

He’s never heard the older man’s voice sound so cold, not even that time they went together to pick up the coffee order for accounting and came across some guy harassing a woman on the street. Jason had leapt to her defense, verbally eviscerating the harasser and sending him scurrying in under a minute.

_I’m worse than _that_ guy? _Really? _I feel like that’s an exaggeration._

“Uh… leaving?” he tries, already knowing it won’t do any good. “Wait, what are _you_ doing here? Were you _followin_g me?” It doesn’t make any sense. He’s already established through observation and research that Jason Todd has absolutely no connection to Siemens or any of his criminal activities. So why is he _here?_

“I just had dinner down the street. When I walked by and fuckin’ saw you committing a goddamn _civil offense_ I couldn’t _not _come over. What the _fuck,_ Tim?”

_Well, damn. Guess it was just a coincidence, then. This sucks._

He bites his lip, hating the expression of confusion and mistrust on the taller man’s face. But he _can’t_ just tell him what he’s doing without giving away _everything_, and he doesn’t know if that’s a good idea. Just a few more months and he’ll finally be eighteen, but for the time being he has to remember how precarious his position truly is.

“I can’t tell you that right now,” he deflects weakly, already knowing it’s not going to fly.

Jason’s reaction is even worse than he expected. “I can’t fuckin’ _believe_ this shit! Do you know I fuckin’ _defended_ you when Dick tried to warn me you weren’t on the up and up? Told him he was seeing shit that wasn’t there when he tried to convince me you’re involved in a bunch of the crimes he investigated over the years.”

_Oh god, no._

Tim flinches back slightly at the anger in the other man’s voice and broad gestures. He feels lightheaded as the blood drains from his face and his heart seizes in horror. _Oh no._

_If Detective Grayson has realized who I am and my connection to Red X_…_ There’s no way he won’t figure out the rest. I’ll be in foster care at best, more likely dumped in some kind of juvenile detention facility if they decide to make a big deal about my history of occasional breaking and entering and light espionage._

Meanwhile, Jason’s still angrily ranting, throwing his hands up in the air. “And it’s not like I even _give _a fuck about any of _that!_ So maybe you got in too deep, too young, and then rolled for the cops. You ain’t the first and you won’t be the last.” He pauses, shoulders heaving, an oddly _hurt _look on his handsome face. “Fuck, I plan to spend my damn _life_ helping kids like that. I woulda _helped _you, damn it. If you’d just been fuckin’ _honest _with me…” His voice cracks and he looks away blinking rapidly, lips pressed tightly together, jaw clenched.

_Wait, what? That’s not…_

“Uh…” Tim tries to interrupt, reaching a hand forward as though to offer some kind of comfort, but is inexorably steamrolled.

“I coulda dealt with that—but did you _have_ to fuckin’ _use me _to get in with WE? I mean, that’s _really _fuckin’ shitty, you know? What were you after, anyway? Technical specs? Money? What the _fuck _was so important that you had to go parading your pretty face and sexy brain and tight little ass around in front of me like you’re someone I could really like—” He breaks off, clearing his throat and scrubbing at his eyes before finishing gruffly, “—when it was just a lie.”

_Oh my god. Did he really just say_…_? But more importantly, how the _hell _did he get the idea my going to WE was some kind of _honeypot mission?_ What the _heck?_ I fully blame Dick for this entire situation!_

Tim bites his lip, leaning infinitesimally toward the other man, eyes widening beseechingly as he tries to find a way to make this _right_. “Jay, you've got the wrong idea. I would _never—”_

The slamming of the main entrance door captures both their attention and they stare at each other in wide-eyed horror. “C’mon,” Jason says after a brief pause, grabbing Tim’s hand and dragging him out into the hallway. “There’s no time—”

He flings open a door, shoves Tim into what looks like a supply closet, and pushes in after him, tugging the door closed quickly but quietly behind them.

* * *

It’s pitch black in the goddamn supply closet Jason somehow thought it would be a good idea to hide in while _someone,_ probably the poor schmuck Tim was stealing from or whatever, stomps around in the hall.

At least it’s kind of roomy as supply closets go. Although they’re still standing so close he can feel the wind of Tim’s movement as the shorter boy lifts his hand, probably to mess up his already-tousled hair some more.

_This was a fuckin’ terrible idea,_ he thinks, and the hell of it is he’s not sure if he means the closet or running after Tim in the first place.

He hears a soft sigh and then something brushes against his arm in the darkness. Jason doesn’t know quite what to think when he feels a slim, warm hand slide into his and gently squeeze.

_I’m such a dumbass. This is a bad idea._

He doesn’t pull his hand away.

Footsteps approach in the hall and they both hold their breath until the guy moves into what from the sound of it is likely the office they were just in. Jason wonders once again exactly what the hell was going down here tonight.

The hand squeezes again and then he feels movement at his side. Suddenly Tim’s pressing against him, free hand resting on his chest as the shorter boy lifts up on his toes to whisper in his ear.

“Jay, I _promise_ I only ever tried to help stop bad guys, no matter _what _confused, garbled version of the truth you may have heard from Dick.” The hand holding his tightens again and his ear tingles at the sensation of warm breath.

It sends his heart racing and those stupid butterflies in his stomach take off because they’re apparently too fuckin’ dumb to realize he shouldn’t be feeling this way about a criminal. Especially not one who might have been lying to his face since the day they met.

_I really fucking wanna believe him right now_…_ But should I?_

He knows the answer to that question, but he doesn’t want to admit it. And… It probably won’t hurt just to listen. Maybe there _is _a reasonable explanation for all this. Hell, all he really witnessed was the younger man breaking and entering, and stealing data…

Which sounds pretty bad, but there could be mitigating factors involved. Maybe it _does _make sense… if whoever works here is a bad guy.

Suddenly, being quiet and making it out without being seen seems a lot more important.

Tim’s soft voice sounds so achingly sincere. “And I _swear_ I had no ulterior motives for WE, or for _you.”_ He takes in a tremulous, hitching little breath. “I’m really sorry you ever thought otherwise.”

_Damn, I’m probably just soft in the head and maybe I’m gonna regret this, but I believe him._

Jason sighs, finally relaxing and wrapping his free arm around the smaller man. He can’t help but notice how perfect holding him feels as he begins gently rubbing soothing circles on Tim’s back. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Fuck. Okay. Let’s just make it outta here, and then we’ll talk, yeah? Figure this shit out _together.”_

The slender figure in his arms melts into him at those words. “Oh, thank god. I thought… I thought you wouldn’t even want to _listen_ to my side of the story.”

He shrugs, shaking his head with a rueful grin the younger man won’t be able to see in the darkness. “Are you fuckin’ _kidding?_ If you can offer me an explanation, _any_ explanation that doesn’t involve you making me a honeypot mission and breaking my damn heart, of fuckin’ course I’ll go for it.”

Tim tilts his head away, listening, then says in a slightly more audible tone, “Well, awesome, because you’re about to get that chance. Siemens is gone.”

Siemens. _What?_

“Wait, _that_ asshole? The sketchy as hell lawyer who’s named after jizz?” He feels Tim nod and hears him stifle a giggle.

Well, damn. Jason remembers the weirdo with the stupid name who felt up that poor woman at one of those shitty galas he had to attend. He also remembers hearing his dad and Dickie talking about what a piece of work that guy is and how much they wish someone could clean up his act once and for all. He raises his brows. “I hope you got something good on him.”

If _that’s_ the kind of guy Tim’s bringing down, Jason can totally get behind this.

“Oh, definitely,” Tim grins as he opens the door and checks the hall before edging out of the supply closet. He’s still holding Jason’s hand when he leads him to the side entrance through which they both entered. “At least, I think so? I didn’t get a chance to decrypt the data yet, but there’s a really high probability there’s going to be something in there the police can use to nail him.”

“Sounds good.” He grins, giving the younger man’s hand a little squeeze just because he can.

Tim flashes him a quick, shy smile and then swings the door open, saying, “Let’s just head over to my place and then we’ll—”

A hand appears out of nowhere to grab him firmly by the shoulder. “Yeah, I don't think so,” says a grim, deep voice as they both startle and turn, too late to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, digging through the trash under Siemens’ desk and emerging triumphantly clutching evidence: ** “I’ve got you now, Siemens!”  
**Jason, entering just in time to witness trash-panda Tim’s antics: ** “First of all, wtf is in your hand, it BETTER not be actual semen. Second, I TRUSTED you and you fuckin’ used me. I shoulda known you were too good to be true” *Turns away to hide manly tears*  
**Tim, horrified: ** “Omg—Jason?! Wait, SEMEN?! Ew, no! This is just a data drive. Also I really like you please believe me” *Hears Siemens approaching office, panics*  
**Jason, responding admirably to Tim’s big scared eyes: ** “In here!” *Grabs Tim and throws him into closet, joins him*  
**Tim, whispering sadly: ** “So you don’t believe me? You think I’m bad?” *Trembles slightly in the darkness at thought of being alone again*  
**Jason, manfully breaking at sound of Tim’s voice quivering: ** “Naw Babe, I trust you. We’ll come outta the closet together and figure shit out from there” *Holds Tim’s hand, feels excited and happy until someone appears out of nowhere to grab them* “Aw shitballs*


	6. Chapter 6

Tim whips his head around at the sudden grip on his shoulder only to be confronted by the extremely unwelcome sight of Detective Dick Grayson, staring sternly down at him.

_Uh oh…_

“What the _fuck_, Dickwad?” Jason sputters, but it’s obvious he’s not taken entirely by surprise at his brother’s presence here. “You_ followed_ me?”

_Oh, he must have come from the restaurant. Jason did say he was having dinner nearby. Oh man, this is _not _going to be a fun conversation._

Detective Grayson raises a brow, shaking his head in disbelief. “My little brother ran off into the Gotham night, upset and possibly not thinking very clearly. _Of course_ I followed you.” Put like that, his actions seem eminently reasonable and his younger brother winces.

“Yeah, okay. But I don’t think—” Jason shoots Tim a concerned look, which is touching but not really especially helpful right now. After all, he’s facing a situation which has previously only appeared in his nightmares.

Dick Grayson, his childhood hero and the person he admires most in all the world, is looking down at him with an expression on his face like he thinks Tim’s just another of the many criminals they’ve put away over the years.

_Ouch,_ he thinks, trying to control the stab of visceral pain he feels at the knowledge that _this_ is what Dick thinks of him.

_Well, it’s not like I ever really expected to impress him or anything. There’s a _reason _I only watched from afar all these years. I just wanted to help… But it was never actually my place to do so, was it? I always knew there was a chance I’d be found out eventually, and that it wouldn’t go over well._

He bites his lip. _Whatever happens now, even if it’s all over, it’s still worth it. I did _good.

“Uh, so…” Yeah, he’s got nothing.

Detective Grayson’s brows draw together ominously and he has to physically stop himself from flinching at the sight. “Tim… I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.” The grip on his shoulder doesn’t loosen at all, which isn’t a great sign. “But I _can’t_ overlook your actions over the past few years. Now that I know your identity, I can’t let you be just because _someone_ may think I should.” He sends a quelling glance over at Jason, who looks like he’s about to protest.

The detective sighs, sounding frustrated. “Look, I’ve caught you red-handed breaking and entering now. Even if you _do_ manage to wiggle out of the rest of it, I’ve got you on that. And there’s _definitely_ suspicion of corporate espionage, considering you made it into the WE internship program under false pretenses—”

Tim makes a protesting noise. He _didn’t!_ He earned that internship fair and square.

But of course, if Detective Grayson is familiar with his abilities when it comes to computers… The older man has no reason to believe he _wouldn’t_ have gone into the systems and altered his own records to make himself more appealing. The protest dies on his lips as his throat tightens painfully.

_He has no reason to believe anything I say, does he?_

It hurts more than he expected to stand in front of his hero and be judged wanting. His face twists as his eyes sting with the threat of extremely unwelcome tears.

Jason looks alarmed at the sight. “Fuck off, Dickie, he’s not _that _bad—this is _Gotham! _There are lots of people who’ve done worse. Go after _them_ instead!”

A faint smile twitches Tim’s lips at his friend’s undaunted loyalty.

_Thanks, Jay, but I don't think it’s going to help very much right now._

“Actually, I _do_ have an idea on that front.” Detective Grayson takes a deep breath and then sighs, his grip on Tim’s shoulder relaxing into a comforting hold rather than the tight restraining grip it was previously. “Tim, we know about your uncle.”

_Oh shit. Welp, guess that was bound to come out eventually too once they figured out the rest. Foster care, here I come!_

“Yeah?” Might as well get this over with, then. He’ll be eighteen in three months, so at least he won’t have to spend _that _long in foster care. Unless they choose to try him as an adult for the breaking and entering, but that seems unlikely.

…Right? He swallows, throat suddenly dry.

“We know _he’s _the one behind all the crimes you’ve been reporting, and we’re willing to cut you a deal. Give him up, and we’ll let you off easy.”

_What the hell?_

“Uh. _What?”_ He can’t quite wrap his mind around what Detective Grayson is implying, because it _sounds_ like he thinks—

Dark blue eyes stare down at him from a painfully earnest, kind face. “Tim… I know you’ve gone a long time without having anyone you can truly confide in or trust, but I _promise,_ you can put your trust in me and Babs. We’ll keep our word.”

_What does his girlfriend have to do with anything? Oh wait, of _course _she’s the one who actually followed the data trail and figured everything out. Although there definitely seem to have been a few misapprehensions along the way…_

Grayson scans Tim’s face anxiously, clearly seeing signs of distress and then utterly misinterpreting them. “And if you’re afraid of Eddie Drake, Tim… We can keep you safe. I swear it. I think we’ll need to put you into protective custody until the case against the man who _calls _himself your uncle is settled, and that might be quite a while depending on what the actual list of counts turns out to be—”

“Wait,” Tim finally manages. “Just… Wait a minute, okay?” He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on what is going on right now. The question of his future can keep for a little longer while he helps untangle the crazy mess they’re all caught up in at the moment. “Okay. So, I think we need to figure out what the heck is going on here. First of all… my uncle? Just how did you get the idea that _he’s_ some kind of criminal mastermind?”

_Did one of the random actors I hired over the years to play him at public events go off the rails and commit a bunch of crimes in his name or something? Damn, guess I should have vetted those guys a little more thoroughly._

The older man looks at him pityingly. “Well, Timmy, as soon as we realized_ you_ were the informant known as Red X and began looking into your background…” He sucks in a breath, wincing. “We uncovered more than we expected. I’m so sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but your uncle… isn’t actually your uncle. We think he managed to get the records changed to _show _he was, but it was a _fraud, _Timmy, to get his hands on your parents’ money. I am _so _sorry.” His eyes shine with sympathy and his hand is now rubbing gentle, soothing circles on Tim’s shoulder.

He blinks. Both Jason and Detective Grayson—_Dick_—are watching him with concern and worry in their blue eyes, and…

_Oh my god, this is ridiculous. I never _once _imagined someone would discover that my uncle’s identity is faked and draw _this _kind of conclusion. Huh._

_Welp, might as well ride this crazy-train to its inevitable, fiery conclusion. I’d kind of like to see exactly how far their speculations went with this before I set the record straight._

“He’s not?” Tim's proud of the little waver in his voice.

Dick’s hand on his shoulder morphs into a half-embrace as the older man attempts to comfort him. “No, Tim. As far as we can tell, his identity is completely fabricated, as is the information in your parents’ will that left you in his custody. Again, I _deeply_ regret that this is something you had to deal with on your own all this time.”

Jason snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, _fuck._ If we’d known about you back then, B probably woulda adopted you himself in a heartbeat.” He makes a face at the thought at the same time Tim does, both clearly equally unenthusiastic about the idea of being brothers.

_Wow, that_ _definitely would have had the potential to be very awkward. Yeah, best not think about it too much._

“Anyway…” Dick swallows. “We’re still not sure if he actually had any involvement in your parents’ deaths, but we have to treat it as a possibility.”

_Oh, holy shit. I didn’t even _think _about it, but yeah, I can see how that might look from their point of view. Wow, this got heavy fast._

Tim’s starting to feel a little guilty. _Maybe I should tell them the truth soon?_

Dick continues before he has a chance. “And whatever the man who calls himself Eddie Drake has made you _do_ over the years, whatever crimes you’ve been _forced _to commit because you were just a kid and didn’t know any better or had no one to turn to… We can protect you, Tim. If you just agree to testify against the man who pretended to be your uncle, we can make sure the _right_ person is punished for all those crimes.” His expression is so sincere, eyes sparkling with emotion in the warm streetlight, that Tim almost doesn't want to burst his bubble.

_Oh well. Might as well just get this over with fast, like ripping off a band-aid._

“Yeah, that’s never going to happen,” he says casually, to the dismay of his companions.

The arm around his shoulder tightens again, vise-like, as Jason immediately begins protesting.

“I know Dickie comes across as kinda a dipshit, but I _swear_ you can trust him! If he says he’ll bring that fucker down and protect you, he will. And if _he _doesn’t, then _I _will.” Jason looks so handsome and confident as he looms protectively nearer that Tim melts a little.

_Wow, that’s hot. And really sweet. But…_

“That’s all well and good, but seriously, I _can’t.”_ As they both start objecting again, Tim continues calmly, “Honestly, I _literally_ can’t. Because my uncle doesn’t exist, and never did.”

The reaction to _that _little bombshell is impressive. Dick’s arm loosens again, in shock this time, as Jason’s mouth drops open. “Wait…” His brows soar up as something clicks. “Holy hell, you little _shit._ You_ invented _your goddamn fake-ass uncle?”

_Damn, he figured that out pretty quick._

Dick’s blinking and shaking his head. “Oh my god. Tim. _Tim. _Did you… _invent_ a false uncle and forge numerous legal records to get out of having to go into foster care?” A single dark brow rises disbelievingly.

Well, there’s no denying it now, although it _does _sound pretty bad phrased like that. “Yep.”

The older man stares at him for a long, unblinking moment. “…Huh. So.” A second brow joins the first, climbing slowly toward his hairline. “I guess all those crimes really were just unrelated incidents you coincidentally investigated?”

Tim watches with interest. _Dick’s face is really expressive up close. _“Yep.”

“And…” Both brows lower in a concerned frown. “You don’t have an actual guardian right now.”

_Damn, I was hoping he'd overlook that part of it._

“…Yep.” He sighs and looks down, waiting for the announcement that he’s about to be taken to social services. Jason edges protectively closer to him, looking worriedly at his older brother.

Unexpectedly, Dick gives them a dazzling grin. “Well, I think I just might have the solution to all our problems.”

_“Please_ don’t fuckin’ let B adopt him, Dickie… I don’t wanna hafta deal with the whole legal incest angle.” Jason pleads as the wide grin on Dick’s face just ominously continues to grow.

_I have a bad feeling about this._

“Oh, it’s not _B _I have in mind…”

* * *

Jason scuffs at the carpet with his foot as he tries to think of what the hell to say to Tim. The younger man seems happy enough with his new guardianship and overall situation. His new room seems nice enough, although it’s really just the spare bedroom in Babs’ apartment with a bunch of his stuff hung on the walls to make him feel at home. His own apartment is still being maintained, but he’s not allowed to live there on his own again until after his birthday.

_Still can’t fuckin’ believe he was on his own for over five years and no one noticed. At least now he’ll have someone who gives a shit where he is and how he’s taking care of himself._

Babs is pretty decent, really, and way the fuck better than Dickie deserves. Having her as a guardian will be good for Tim. She’s definitely far and away the best choice to try to reign in the kid’s mad hacker tendencies. Although knowing her, she’ll just end up teaching him even _more_ ways to get around the system undetected. Either way, it’s sure as hell worlds better than what he had before.

“So… What now?” Jason isn’t quite sure what they’re supposed to do next. The past few days have been a whirlwind, getting Tim set up in his new digs and under proper supervision while also avoiding alienating him, considering he’s almost a grown man and used to his independence. In the midst of all that, the two of them haven’t really had a chance to talk about _them_ yet.

Especially once Tim handed over all the data he’d gathered on Siemens, who was apparently the goddamn _devil incarnate_ instead of just being a regular run-of-the-mill asshole like Jason thought. He wasn’t just running a prostitution ring and overcharging clients, he was also practicing witness intimidation and outright murder when bribery and coercion weren’t enough to get his way. He had a few judges in his pocket, as well, but the evidence Tim obtained was enough to get the detectives going in the right direction to get a warrant and bring him the fuck _down_.

_That_ heap of steaming shit had kept poor Dickie busy during all the time he wasn’t helping Babs. It took her _days _to iron out Timmy’s details so no one would have to find out about the fraud he committed against the legal system as a goddamn twelve year-old, while still allowing him to live with her as planned.

_What a fuckin’ mess._ Jason sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair.

Tim bites his lip, watching him, and then gives him a shaky grin. “Feels weird, doesn’t it?”

He nods. “Yeah. It’s just… Everything’s been so damn _intense_ the past few days, it feels weird as hell to just be free to do whatever now.”

The shorter boy nods understandingly. “Yeah, it’s… Well, I haven’t really _ever_ had this much scrutiny on what I do with my time, so that’s been kind of stifling and hard to get used to. But having people who actually _care_ what happens to me—” He cuts off, swallowing heavily.

_Goddamn, I wish I could go back in time just to punch his parents in the fuckin’ face. No way in _hell _Timmy woulda thought of this whole fake uncle schtick if his parents had been around, shown him how fuckin’ _great_ it can be to have a family._

_Then again, I know the damn Gotham foster system probably wouldn’t have done a great job on that front either._

He frowns at the thought, then shakes it off.

_Whatever, all I can do is help him now._

Jason starts to reach out, then stops himself and awkwardly lifts his hand to rub at the back of his neck. What had seemed so natural while trapped together in that closet in the dark seems a near-impossible challenge now.

_I wish I could just _hold_ him,_ he thinks almost desperately. _It’s easier to talk about emotions and shit when I don’t hafta see his face and wonder how he’s taking it._

Tim must catch the aborted gesture, because a little grin suddenly lights up his face and he steps forward right into Jason, blushing a little. He wraps his arms around the smaller man almost automatically, leaning down to brush his chin against Tim’s soft hair.

He smells clean and feels warm pressed against his body. Jason sighs, feeling tension he hadn’t even been aware of melting out of him. “Hey there,” Tim whispers into his chest.

“Hey.” A slow grin spreads across his face and he closes his eyes.

_This. Fuckin’ this right here, that’s what I want._

They breathe together, sharing the same air and letting their closeness communicate some of the things he’s been too afraid to say out loud in the midst of all the upheaval.

_Can it really be this easy? Fuck it, why not just give it a shot?_

“Tim,” he murmurs, still enjoying the embrace. “Wanna go out for coffee sometime?”

Tim’s body twitches as he stifles a giggle, and Jason’s grin grows_. I can _feel_ it when he does that,_ he thinks in wonder.

The younger man in his arms swallows, pressing his face into his chest. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Standing there in Tim's new room in Babs’ warm apartment, holding each other, Jason just lets his mind drift. He can see the shape of their relationship—coffee dates followed by dinners, lots of time spent just watching whatever or playing games, lunch dates when they’re both in the office, hanging out on campus once the school year begins—and it’s _so _fuckin’ _good._

Although now that he knows about Timmy’s _extracurricular_ activities, he should probably add stalking criminals together to the list.

_Little stalker,_ he thinks fondly, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to Tim’s soft hair. He’s so much more than Jason assumed at first glance, way back when they first met and he seemed like just another rich, entitled douchebag. But that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

_I am so fuckin’ grateful I got the opportunity to find out who he _really _is._

“Hey Jay,” Tim says after a long pause, finally tilting his head back to look up at him again. “Can we make that coffee date later today? Preferably in the Diamond District, at around midnight?” And he blinks those huge, innocent blue eyes up at him as though he hasn’t almost certainly just requested Jason join him on one of his less law-abiding information gathering excursions.

_Hell, so long as Timmy will be there, it sounds good to me_. Jason grins.

“Okay, but we better not get into anything that’s gonna get Dickie or Babs all pissed again. You don’t want to find out how much being grounded sucks.” He laughs at the startled, slightly pissy look on Tim’s face. He clearly hadn’t considered the possibility of actually being punished for failing to follow all of the new rules he’s encountering now that he actually has proper adult supervision for what’s probably the first time in his young _life_.

_Damn, he’s such an adorable mess._

Jason leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Tim’s forehead, reveling in the pretty flush that instantly spreads across the younger man’s cheeks.

He squeaks and hides his face in Jason’s chest again, because he is actually the cutest thing Jason has ever seen in his entire life. His heart swells almost painfully and he’s keenly aware of how very precious this man is.

_He’s also fuckin’ weird, slightly crazy, definitely way the hell too smart for his own good, too cute for _my_ own good, and probably a whole bunch of other things I can’t wait to find out. He’s just so damn… _Tim.

Jason grins.

_…And I wouldn't have him any other way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, clutching Tim by the shoulders and shaking him: ** “Tim, you HAVE to narc on your fake uncle! It’s the only way to save yourself from prison!”  
**Jason, nodding solemnly: ** “Word”  
**Tim, biting his lip: ** “Uh, guess I’m going to jail then?” *Waves away their horrified protests* “No really, because I made up my uncle. He’s like an imaginary friend, only more illegal”  
**Dick, after a long pause: ** “…Right. Okay, I’m not actually sending you to jail. But you hafta live with Babs from now on!”  
**Tim, rolling his eyes: ** “That is in no way a punishment” *Wanders off to move in with Babs*  
**Jason, awkwardly unsure of their relationship after helping Tim move all his crap: ** “Uh…” *Falls silent as Tim grabs the back of his head and pulls him in for a thorough kiss* “Well, alright then” *Grins, plans rest of their life together, considers christening Tim’s new room until he remembers Babs is right downstairs and will DEFINITELY notice. Shrugs, considers doing it anyway* “Damn I love my life”  
*  
Thank you so much to everyone who has given kudos or commented, and big thanks to the fantastic mods over at Jaytim Week for all their hard work! For this bingo card, I used the diagonal row from top left to bottom right (Twitter, forbidden love, diner for the free space, pool, and glitter). 
> 
> Also, thanks to the [Capes & Coffee Tim Drake discord server](https://discord.gg/bGhpCDn) for the sprints, betas, and support while I was writing this.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, and thanks for reading!


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